words--a St. Simonian dream of perfectibility, or anything like that. It
is practical; it exists; it is within reach of you. It is a definite
and immense organization; it may be young as yet, but it has courage and
splendid aims; and now, with a great work before it, it is eager for
aid. You yourself, when you see a child run over, or a woman starving of
hunger, or a blind man wanting to cross a street, are you not ready with
your help--the help of your hands or of your purse? Multiply these by
millions, and think of the cry for help that comes from all parts of the
world. If you but knew, you could not resist. I as yet know little--I
only hear the echo of the cry; but my veins are burning; I shall have
the gladness of answering 'Yes,' however little I can do. And after all,
is not that something? For a man to live only for himself is death."

"But you know, Evelyn," said his friend, though he did not quite know
what to answer to all this outburst, "you must be more cautious. Those
benevolent schemes are very noble and very captivating; but sometimes
they are in the hands of rather queer people. And besides, do you quite
know the limits of this big society? I thought you said something about
vindicating the oppressed. Does it include politics?"

"I do not question; I am content to obey," said Lord Evelyn.

"That is not English; unreasoning and blind obedience is mere folly."

"Perhaps so," said the other, somewhat absently; "but I suppose a man
accepts whatever satisfies the craving of his own heart. And--and I
should not like to go alone on this new thing, Brand. Will you not come
some little way with me? If you think I am mistaken, you may turn back;
as for me--well, if it were only a dream, I think I would rather go with
the pilgrims on their hopeless quest than stay with the people who come